


Between the Hour and Minute Hands

by HowardR



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Side Quests, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: I am currently writing a NitW fanfic called 'A Lack of Proximity'. It clocks in at just over 40,000 words at the time of publishing this, and is far from done.But I've missed some scenes I've wanted to write. I've left out characters I love to death. I'm confined to the boring old third person limited perspective.So - what to do?Make a side-fic.
Relationships: Mae Borowski/Bea Santello, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue: I've Decided

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly important note: If you haven't read 'A Lack of Proximity', this will probably make very little sense. Sorry.
> 
> All credit goes to infinite fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Suicide and suicidal thoughts

I've decided to commit suicide.

It isn't anything personal, I assure you. I'm not sure why quite yet. Maybe the answer will become more clear on the other side of the river.

I've stood on this pier for a long time, and I've decided to break the surface of that icy blue water. The other side seems impossibly cold, the surface of the lake obscures everything but black shadows and formless masses.

It isn't that my life is unsatisfying. As a matter of fact, my life is quite good. Everyone treats me with the utmost politeness, manners impeccable.

It's just that the mystery on the other side seems far more appealing at the moment then the certain doom on this end.

Perhaps we'll see each other again, though, in time.

-Selma Ann 'Selmers' Forrester.

1996 - ____

* * *

Selmers smiled, just a little, at the suicide note she had jotted down in her journal the day she and Dennis had split.

She had decided that, if she ever really did decide to off herself, that she probably wouldn't want to write a note. So, she had simply jotted one down, and left the death year blank.

She had almost written in that death date a few times.

But those days were over.

She re-read the first line, and chuckled.

"Well _I've_ decided-" She said, tearing the page out and flicking on her lighter, "that I don't need you anymore."

The flames slowly crawled up the paper - little orange tongues licking up and burning the parts above to a well-cooked medium rare, before devouring it.

She held on, even as the flames crawled up to her fingers.

* * *

"Hey, where'd you get that scar, Selmers?"

She smiled at Mae.

"I just got a little burnt up the other day."

"Doing what?"

She closed her eyes in contentment.

"Nothing that'll ever be important again."

And, before Mae could respond, she interjected.

"Wanna hear a new poem?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...
> 
> Huh. How do I put this.
> 
> I'm just... I'd like to tell everyone who's bothered to read A Lack of Proximity, and given enough of a shit to read this, that I appreciate your interest in my stories. It really does make my day, seeing another kind comment pop up in my inbox.
> 
> Have a good one, alright?
> 
> Never as creative as Selmers,
> 
> -Howard R.


	2. Subway... 'Fun', Prologue: Die Anywhere Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mae and Bea board a subway to get to Jackie's party. As one could guess, strangeness ensues.

"I just wanna diiiie any-where else..."

Bea furrowed her brow, glancing over at Mae.

The cat in question was laying back in her seat, lounging comfortably and staring at the ceiling. Or the subway equivalent, at least. She was singing a little under her breath, tapping her heel against the rattling subway car bottom to the beat.

"If only I could diiiie any-where else..."

"What're you singing?"

Bea had never heard it, and it wasn't bad.

Heh. Certainly had relatable lyrics.

"Oh. Uh, it's a song a friend of mine and I wrote."

Bea blinked.

"You write music?"

"Yeah. I play bass in a band." Mae smiled a little.

"And _you..._ wrote _that?_ I thought you loved this town."

Mae blinked, and then chuckled.

"Yeah, it was mostly Casey, actually. I'm more a... Weird Autumn typa gal."

Casey.

...Bea had heard that name.

"Casey?" Bea raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Mae glanced away. "Er, we were... we were really good friends. Besties, really."

_Were._

"Oh."

Huh. So that's what being on the receiving end of that felt like.

"What... what happened?"

"He ran away." Mae said shortly.

...She was lying.

Bea knew it, deep in her bones. A half-formed instinct, bubbling in her gut and lurching heavily.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Mae turned to her, and blinked. Then, she smiled a little - sharp teeth poking out and glinting in the fluorescent light.

"Eh. It is what it is." She said with a shrug.

Then, suddenly, she chuckled. It was a quite sound, half bitter and half darkly amused.

"At least he got his wish."

It was said with such deep-seated vitriol, such bubbling bitterness, that Bea felt a little nauseous. It was a tone she had never heard - and hoped to never hear again - in Mae's voice.

She didn't know how to respond.

Luckily, Mae didn't seem to want a response. Her stare was a thousand miles away, lips pulled back in something that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite a grimace. One of her fingers twitched.

Her ears twitched too.

"Hey - uh - how'd you get that tear in your ear?"

Bea wasn't quite sure what compelled her to finally speak, but whatever it was, it gripped her with a fierceness that forced her to comply. Mae blinked again, seeming to come out of a haze, and then turned to her with a manic grin.

The knot in Bea's stomach loosened.

"Oh, that's quite a story, Beatrice."

"We've got time." She countered. She felt a bit of a smile tugging at her lips, too.

Mae's grin softened. A tiny, hot spark flew and vanished in Bea's gut.

And Mae started talking, nostalgia in her voice.

"So, me and Gregg were going to that water tower - y'know, the one at the edge of town?..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good start to this little... mini-series?
> 
> When I found out that Casey was the one who had written 'Die Anywhere Else' (it isn't explicitly stated in-game, but it's heavily implied) his death instantly became a hundred times more tragic for me. So I kinda... dumped that into this.
> 
> This isn't a good chapter. I know that. Mainly just set-up.
> 
> Never as creative as Selmers,
> 
> -Howard R.


	3. Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the last scene in chapter one, they reach the end of the tunnel.

She stared.

The spotlight from the boat, blood red, hung across the river’s surface, spilling out onto the concrete flooring beneath her. Her claws lit up, harsh edges dripping in atmospheric light, and deep midnight blue coated the rest of her form.

The workers, heading home.

Her paw reached up, almost absentmindedly, and brushed against the surface. Her thumb scooped up to the rest of her hand, wiping dust and grime off the mural.

She just… held a hand there, for a long moment.

There was a heavy kind of peacefulness in that moment. Not quite empty, but  _ still. _ Still with the weight of the picture before her.

She heard that crocodile get off the boat behind her. The sound bounced around in her eardrums, unabsorbed and ignored.

She pressed against the mural, and let her head fall down. Staring at the ground.

“Uh - cat? What’re… what’s up?”

She didn’t bother responding.

She lifted her head, and stared at the picture. The picture that might never be seen again. The picture she had never known about.

...Heh.

“It’s just…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

“This is here.” She said finally, staring at the picture. “This mural is here. And it was here. And it will be here.”

The crocodile, back in the boat, didn’t respond. Mae could imagine that she was probably a little confused at this point.

“Nevermind. Let’s go back.” She said flatly, hand falling and tread heavy. She collapsed into the back of the boat, and grabbed the spotlight.

The crocodile paused, but grabbed the wheel and complied, after a moment.

...The crocodile.

Mea wondered what her name was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez. That is too much fun.
> 
> Just, like... getting an idea, and just writing about it for five minutes, and just being... done. Ready to publish.
> 
> Never as creative as Selmers,
> 
> -Howard R.


	4. Fireflies on the Porch

Bea glanced up again only when she heard Mae coming back from whatever backshit insane activity she had been participating in.

And blinked.

Twice.

Thrice.

She shook her head and managed to tamp down on the moment of shock, and simply willed herself to just accept that Mae was walking back with a thick cloud of fireflies around her.

As she came closer, Bea realized she was smiling.

It was a nice smile. Wide, happy, glittering in the late evening light. The air smelled like rain and chlorophyll, and the fizzling porch lightbulb shone yellow in the silence.

Bea realized that she might never forget this moment. Like a snapshot in her mind - a single frame of her life, captured in all its glory. Every nuance, every sensation, every smell and sight and even the way the stillness seemed to press against her skin.

She would remember it forever, she knew, with a kind of intuitive instinct that came to her very rarely. She would forever remember the moment Mae came back into her sightline with a cloud of fireflies.

Like magic.

As the girl came up to the porch steps, she held her arms out wide - and the cloud of fireflies spread and danced away. A few buzzed close to her and flew around her form before going up into nowhere again.

She peered at the fireflies and felt a foreign smile tug at her lips.

She hung her head as she chuckled helplessly, a kind of lightness in her stomach that she knew wouldn’t last.

What she would remember the next morning was how Mae had looked after throwing up - the wide-eyed, shaky brokenness of her stare.

But what she would remember years later is how Mae looked in the moment she smiled helplessly.

The way her eyes lit up and her face flushed with sincerity.

She stared up at the fireflies as she managed to tamp down on her chuckles, and just a little awe tinged her voice.

“...Huh.”

“Crazy, right?” Mae said, sitting on the step below her and grinning. “They just like me, I guess.”

“That’s…”

She trailed off, staring up again at the cloud of dispersing bugs. 

For a moment, she wanted to say the only thought really on her mind.

That Mae was a very interesting kind of person.

After a long moment, she stood, flicking her cigarette away.

“Yeah.” She said flatly. “I guess so.”

She began to walk away. Mae blinked behind her, and stood up - she had to jog for a moment to catch up.

“That was fun!” Mae chirped as she approached, lining up so she could look at Bea as she talked.

“...If you say so.”

“Really, it was!” She said again, voice sincere. “Getting trapped, beating up a furnace, meeting crazy old people. Getting lemonade. It was tons of fun!”

“Yep. A real adventure.” Bea deadpanned, sticking her hands in her pockets.

_ “Ugh. _ You’re  _ zero _ fun.”

“There’s nothing  _ fun _ about a job.” She said flatly, voice just a little sharp. Mae flinched slightly, but rallied quickly.

“Sure there is! Or there was this time, anyway.” Mae amended quickly. “Mrs. Miranda was super fun. So was getting trapped. Come on - you can’t tell me you didn’t have at least a  _ little _ fun.”

“Ah. I’m glad you’ve decided what I can and can’t tell you.”

Mae grimaced slightly, but shrugged a moment later, expression clearing.

“Whatever. Even if you won’t admit it - you had fun.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Margaret.” She said flatly, opening her car door and slipping inside.

Mae glanced back at the porch for a short, fleeting moment before joining her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I finally wrote the fireflies on the porch scene that I always wanted to get around to in Lack of Proximity.
> 
> By the way, some good news about Lack of Proximity - I'm writing it again! Don't expect a chapter anytime soon - this next chapter is going to be really tricky to get right, and I'm still not even completely sure what I want it to end up like - but I'm getting somewhere. Keep an eye open, is all I'm saying.
> 
> I'm really excited to finally be getting some NitW content done again. I hope you liked it.
> 
> Never as Creative as Selmers,
> 
> -Howard R.


End file.
